Another Yesterday
by Infinity Blue
Summary: When the 'Rent Gang' goes over to Mark and Roger's place to watch Mark's old footage, a shocking discovery is made...Yeah I suck at summaries. Reviews are always welcome :)
1. Cheers?

The sound of a spoon tapping gently against a glass interupted out chatter.  
  
Mark pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose and prepared to speak.  
  
Mark, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins had decided to binge and have dinner at the Life Café. It had been a week since they almost lost Mimi, who was contently pressed against Roger's shoulder.  
  
They all waited for Mark to speak.  
  
"Ahem, well, I'm not really good at thinking of things off the top of my head unless I'm taping something-"  
  
"NO!" everyone shouted, as he reached for the camera.  
  
He jumped back, a hurt look on his face.  
  
"Not now, Pookie," Maureen whispered, lightly. Joanne shot her a look.  
  
"Well um, okay then. Anyway, I wanted to make a toast. To Roger and Mimi, for reuniting together!"  
  
The two looked at each other. Roger winked and Mimi giggled. Mark continued.  
  
"To Maureen and Joanne, for making up for well, probably about the hundredth time. Let's hope they stay together this time."  
  
Maureen beamed and Joanne clapped politely.  
  
"Amen," Roger muttered, and Maureen smacked him on the arm, furiously.  
  
"To Collins, for his new tutoring job down at NYU."  
  
Collins chuckled, and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"And well, to me. To US." He rose his glass. "Cheers."  
  
"Cheers!" the group chorused.  
  
"You're such a sap, Mark," Mimi teased.  
  
"Hey, I'm better when I have my camera."  
  
The glasses tinkled as they clicked together, and they drank.  
  
"Are you still going to show us your footage later tonight?" Maureen asked, eagerly.  
  
Over the past year, Mark had gathered footage from previous events. Maureen's performance, the riot in the empty lot. Angel's funeral.  
  
"Yup. I've just gotta get it all set up."  
  
"Well, we're done NOW!" Maureen said, standing up. "And I'm dying to see the video of my performance. Did you know, that people are STILL talking about it?"  
  
"They're talking about it, alright," Joanne mumbled.  
  
"You guys done?" Maureen turned to the rest of the group, pleading with her eyes.  
  
Roger sighed. "Let's go. I'm not done, but I wanna see the video too."  
  
He stood up and retrieved both his and Mimi's coats, and the two left hand in hand, preparing to wait outside for everyone else.  
  
"Let's go!" Maureen chirped, tossing Joanne and Collins their coats before grabbing her own.  
  
Mark picked up his camera, put it back in its case, and followed closely behind them.  
  
****  
  
"Only thing to do is jump ovvvvvver the mooooon! Over the-MOOOOOO."  
  
Maureen stared at the projector screen with her mouth wide open in horror. Mark tried to stifle a giggle as he let the footage continue.  
  
"Oh my God. I thought it was a really good idea at the time, but JESUS, what was I thinking?!"  
  
"Glad to see some light's been shed on you. Alright, onward."  
  
The screen changed, and showed a bunch of hectic protestors in the lot, mooing loudly at the camera, dodging the police.  
  
"Well, THEY liked it," Maureen said, satisfied.  
  
"Mo, most of those people were already drunk," Roger said, ducking to avoid the pillow that came hurling at his head.  
  
Maureen and Joanne were huddled together on the sofa, Collins was perched in an old rocking chair that Mark's mom had given him, thinking it was still of good use. Roger and Mimi were huddled on the floor together.  
  
The screen went blank again and then the scene changed to Angel's funeral. Everyone glanced at Collins nervously. He sighed, and rested his head on his hands, smiling slightly when he saw everyone staring at him.  
  
Then there was some more random footage, Roger running around the apartment with Mimi on his back, both apparently drunk. That one got a lot of laughs. There were about fifty of Mark's 'nosedives' and then there was some footage of the horizon, taped from the fire escape of Mark and Roger's apartment.  
  
"Hey, Mark, have you got the tape of Collins's birthday anywhere?" Maureen piped up.  
  
They'd recently thrown Collins a surprise birthday at the life café. It'd required much vodka, and many threats by the manager that they'd never be let back in again.  
  
"It's somewhere in here- hold on." Mark pulled out a cardboard box from behind the sofa, and rummaged through hundreds of tape reels.  
  
"I think this is it," he said, plucking one of them from the box and sliding it in.  
  
An image appeared on the screen, but it wasn't from Collins's birthday. It was of Central Park. The camera panned to the right, focusing on the skyline, and then on a group of pigeons feasting on some breadcrumbs that someone had thrown for them.  
  
"Oh um, this isn't it," Mark said quickly, trying to switch it off.  
  
Again, the scene changed, and it showed Mark and a with a young, blonde woman. Her long hair was windblown, and she wore a white sundress over her slender frame. Right before Mark pulled the plug, the two of them turned towards each other, and kissed.  
  
The room was silent for a moments.  
  
"Wow, Mark's actually got a love life," Mimi joked, glancing at the others.  
  
They were unusually quiet. Collins was fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair, and Maureen and Joanne looked nervously over at Roger.  
  
Mimi turned to look over at Roger. His eyes were still on the screen. His mouth was slightly open in shock.  
  
"Who is that?" she said, confused.  
  
Shakily, he turned to Mark. "What was that?" he asked quietly.  
  
Mark didn't answer. Instead, he gathered the equipment into the box, and slid it back behind the sofa. He refused to meet Roger's gaze.  
  
For a moment, an enraged look came across Roger's face, but then is changed, and he was left with a sad look in his eyes. Silently, he lifted Mimi off his lap, stood up, and walked out of the living room.  
  
The group heard his bedroom door slam loudly, and winced.  
  
"Who was that?" Mimi repeated, trying to get someone to say something.  
  
Mark sat down in an unoccupied armchair, looking down at his camera, cradling it in his hands.  
  
"What's the matter?" she tried again, looking to Maureen for help.  
  
Shakily, Maureen took a breath and said quietly, "That was April." 


	2. Broken Friendship

The room was so silent; you could hear a pin drop. Mark was still fiddling with his camera, refusing to meet anyone's eye, and the others shuffled in their seats, nervously.  
  
"Well, I'm going to go talk to him," Mimi declared, getting up off the floor.  
  
"Meems, I don't think you should," Maureen said carefully, as she slid off the couch.  
  
"Why not? It's just me. Besides," she said, looking at Mark, "Maybe I can cheer him up."  
  
She walked out of the room, and the group could hear her tapping gently on Roger's door.  
  
"She doesn't understand," muttered Collins, shaking his head. "She didn't know April."  
  
***  
  
"Roger?" Mimi opened the door a crack.  
  
Still in the clothes he'd worn that day, Roger lay on the bed, facing the other wall.  
  
Mimi kneeled on the end of the bed.  
  
"I know it's a shock baby- but can't you ever learn to forgive him? I mean that was a long time ago, right?"  
  
Roger let out a small sigh. He couldn't talk to Mimi about April. She'd never be able to understand.  
  
"Talk to me, Roger?" Mimi said, in a small voice.  
  
Roger closed his eyes, stubbornly.  
  
"Fine." Mimi said, with a tone of hurt in her voice. She got up from the bed and moved towards the door to leave.  
  
Feeling guilty, Roger sat up and was about to call to her, but the door had already shut.  
  
***  
  
Maureen had been waiting outside the door.  
  
"Everything okay?" she asked.  
  
Mimi made a half smile, and shrugged her shoulders helplessly.  
  
"Oh honey, it's alright, it's not you he's mad at." Maureen said gently, wrapping her arms around her.  
  
"I know," Mimi sniffed. "He wouldn't even look at me though."  
  
"Well, we all know how stubborn Roger is, right?"  
  
That brought a small smile.  
  
"I'll talk to him. I'll MAKE him talk."  
  
"Okay," Mimi sighed, and went back into the living room.  
  
***  
  
"Roger? C'mon Roger, cut it out, talk to me."  
  
Great, Roger thought, rolling his eyes. Now Maureen was going to start nagging him.  
  
"Roger, don't be an ass, okay? Mimi didn't do anything; you could at least talk to her. And you've gotta talk to Mark too, you saw the look on his face. He feels bad."  
  
Roger turned to face Maureen. "Mo, did it ever occur to you that Mark was sneaking around with April not only while she and I were a couple, but when you and Mark were a couple too?"  
  
"WHAT?" Maureen practically yelped. She rose to her feet and stormed back into the living room, where Mark, Collins, Joanne and Mimi sat, sullenly.  
  
"You stupid bastard!" she snapped, whacking Mark on the side of the head. "Was this going on while were going out?"  
  
Mark winced in pain and rubbed his head where Maureen had hit him. Nervously, he started turning the camera over in his hands.  
  
"Put the goddamn camera down, Mark!" she exclaimed, shoving it aside.  
  
"Honeybear," Joanne said, softly, seeing the pained look on Mark's face.  
  
"Not NOW, Pookie. Talk to me Mark. What happened?"  
  
Mark retrieved his camera from the floor and lifted his eyes to meet Maureen's furious glare.  
  
"I can't talk to you," he said quietly, meaning 'I can't talk to YOU about it.'  
  
"Fine," she said angrily, "Will you talk to Roger at least, then?"  
  
"Yes. When he's ready."  
  
Maureen let out a disgusted 'HMMPH!' and plopped back down beside Joanne.  
  
"You guys don't understand," Mark whispered, "You don't know what was going on here at the time."  
  
"Well, obviously not," Maureen scoffed, "Apparently there's a lot we didn't know about."  
  
"Give him a break," Mimi said softly, sitting down beside Mark and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Can't you see that he's sorry?"  
  
Mark looked at Mimi, puzzled at why she was being so forgiving. Then it occurred to him that she'd never known how close Roger and April had been, how much they'd meant to each other.  
  
"It's alright, Meems," he mumbled, pushing her arm away gently. "I'll talk to Roger when he's ready."  
  
"Well, he certainly isn't ready now," Maureen snapped, haughtily. "But somehow, I don't feel like waiting around here until he is. If I was him, I'd probably never talk to you again. Pookie, let's go."  
  
Sighing, Joanne rose to her feet and stared for the door.  
  
"You wanna sleep at our place tonight, Meems? We've got a pull out couch. I don't think Roger's going to be talking to ANYONE anytime soon."  
  
Helplessly, Mimi glanced back over at Mark, and then to Roger's closed bedroom door.  
  
"Fine," she said, giving up. She stood to grab some clothes to sleep in before she left.  
  
Collins sat down beside Mark, and waved the three of them out.  
  
"Mark," he sighed, placing a hand on his knee. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"Collins, April wasn't happy being with Roger that winter. He was always out, trying out with his band to book a gig, and he barely had time to spend with her. Whenever he actually came home, he'd just collapse on the couch, exhausted. You were living here at that time, don't you remember?"  
  
"I was rarely here either,' Collins admitted.  
  
"Well, sometime around Halloween, we were both here, waiting for Roger to come home. We were supposed to some early Halloween party down at the Life Café. Well- Roger never came home. And one thing led to another," he sighed. "No matter how I tell the story, I'm going to end up the bad guy either way, right?"  
  
"Mark, I KNOW you. I know you wouldn't do something to deliberately hurt Roger. He probably knows that too. But he loved April so much. And he thought that she had loved him back the same way." He took off his classes and wiped them on the bottom of his shirt.  
  
"I guess I'll just camp out in here tonight," Mark sighed, unrolling an old blanket from the base of the couch.  
  
Collins smiled sympathetically. "Maybe he'll want to talk in the morning." He stood to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow. It'll work out. You'll see."  
  
"I guess," Mark said, not believing it though.  
  
Collins left, and Mark chucked off his shoes and put his glasses aside, and pulled the blanket up to his chin.  
  
***  
  
"Mark?"  
  
Mark opened his eyes. He winced when the morning light flashed at him. He rubbed his eyes, and grabbed his glasses, sliding them over his nose.  
  
"Mark, I want you out of the apartment today."  
  
"What???" Mark sat up.  
  
"You heard me. I don't want you here anymore."  
  
Roger sighed, his fender grasped tightly in his left hand. "Why, Mark? I thought I could trust you."  
  
"Let me just explain," Mark pleaded, rising to his feet.  
  
"No," Roger shook his head. "There's nothing to explain. You lied to me. BOTH of you lied to me. I thought April loved me." He swiped angrily at his eye, angry at himself for almost upsetting himself to tears.  
  
"She did love you," Mark croaked, "If you'd only listen."  
  
"NO, Mark. I've made up my mind." He turned to face the wall. "I want you to get your stuff out of here by this afternoon. Stay with Collins, or camp out in the hallway. I don't give a shit either way." His eyes drifted over to a picture of April, leaning against the little reading lamp beside the couch. Mimi had never liked the fact that he'd kept the picture. It'd made her feel uncomfortable. Now Roger felt the same way. Emotionlessly, Roger turned the picture facedown. He couldn't gather up the courage to just get rid of it. Not yet.  
  
"I'm going out," he muttered, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder.  
  
Mark watched him walk toward the door, helplessly.  
  
He slammed the door behind him.  
  
It was over in a second, but the sound of the door slamming rang in Mark's head long after Roger was gone. 


	3. April Storms

As Mark was finishing up packing some random sentimental junk into some spare cardboard boxes that had been lying around the closet, he suddenly heard a loud thump from the hallway.  
  
"Roger?" Mark called, concerned, "Is that you?"  
  
"Does it look like him?" a familiar voice answered back sharply.  
  
Mimi was pulling herself up off the floor, rubbing her hip.  
  
Mark hopped over the parade of boxes that now made a straight line down the hallway, and made his way over to Mimi?  
  
"What happened?" he asked, pulling her up to her feet.  
  
She smirked. "I tripped over those damn boxes. What is all this? What's going on?"  
  
"Well-" Mark trailed off slowly. He sat down on one top of one of the boxes, labeled 'Tape Reels and Crap.'  
  
"Roger kicked me out of the apartment."  
  
Mimi blinked. "WHAT? He can't do that, Mark. It's your apartment too, you helped pay for it. Besides, who says that Roger gets the final word?"  
  
"Meems, he DESERVES the final word," Mark exclaimed, standing to his feet.  
  
"I was going out with his GIRLFRIEND behind his back. Well, ex girlfriend," he said quickly, as he saw the uncomfortable look on Mimi's face. She'd never been a fan of the subject of Roger and April.  
  
"I'll talk to him,' she insisted, and she picked up one of the smaller boxes and placed it back inside the apartment.  
  
"Put the rest of your stuff back inside. I'll turn him around."  
  
Mimi stepped over the rest of the boxes, carefully trying not to fall this time, and managed to climb over them and reach the doorway.  
  
Mark watched her disappear inside.  
  
***  
  
Roger was sitting on his bed, strumming away at his guitar, monotonously. He lifted his head at the sound of Mimi's footsteps.  
  
"Mimi?" he said, pushing the fender aside.  
  
"I'm back," she said, grinning sheepishly.  
  
She plopped down on the bed beside him. "Miss me?" she asked, snuggling closer to him.  
  
"I did," Roger admitted. "The bed was cold."  
  
Mimi giggled and gave him a playful shove. She began twisting a stray curl around her index finger, nervously.  
  
"So, Mark's leaving?"  
  
All of a sudden, Roger's mood became sullen.  
  
"I guess," he said coldly.  
  
"Rodge, you can't do that- he's your best friend, for God sakes!"  
  
"I THOUGHT he was my best friend," he spat. "I used to think a lot of things, Mimi. I thought I could trust Mark. I thought April loved me. I thought that I had a long life ahead of me before I died.  
  
"Don't talk like that, Roger," Mimi said, weakly, and suddenly Roger regretted saying that, especially considering that she herself had almost died only a week earlier.  
  
"Sorry," he said quietly. "How could they do that to me, though?"  
  
"There has to be an explanation for it. Mark's your BEST FRIEND. You two have known each other since what, nursery school? Couldn't you ever learn to forgive him?"  
  
Roger suddenly found himself irritated. "You just DON'T KNOW, Mimi," he snapped. "You didn't know April, did you?"  
  
Mimi was silent. She nervously entwined her hair around her finger, pretending to examine it.  
  
"What is it?" he pried, seeing that all of a sudden she'd gotten unusually quiet.  
  
"Nothing," she said quickly, too quickly.  
  
"Mimi, I know you're keeping something with me."  
  
"Well," Mimi said slowly, not looking at Roger, "I DID know April- not very well. But I knew her." She shuffled nervously, tracing her finger around the designs on the comforter.  
  
Roger was silent for a moment. "How?" he said, trying to keep his cool.  
  
"When I found out- well you know. That I had- That I was H.I.V positive," Mimi began, saying the last part quickly, "A friend suggested that I go to a Life Support meeting. I had nothing to lose, so I decided to try it out. There weren't that many people there. Just me, a gay couple that had come together, another guy who didn't really talk that much." she trailed off. "The other one was a girl. She was older than me. She told us that she had AIDS, and that she'd given them to her boyfriend. She told us that she couldn't live with herself anymore, knowing that he was going to die one day because of her." Mimi paused.  
  
"The girl introduced herself as April."  
  
Roger said nothing, but Mimi could see that he was growing uncomfortable.  
  
"I only went to the meetings two other times. I didn't feel like they were helping me at all, and that's why I stopped going." She sighed and chewed on her lower lip.  
  
"I didn't know that that would be the last time April would be going either. But each time I saw her, she looked worse. She didn't really seem to care what she looked like, she just wore an old sweatshirt and pajama pants, and it didn't look like she washed her hair too often."  
  
Roger remained quiet, but he did recall that April had been neglecting her looks and had been acting really depressed and tired before she died.  
  
"I DO remember one thing she told me, after that last session," she said, looking up and catching Roger's eye.  
  
"What was that?" he said, emotionlessly.  
  
"I had told everyone that I didn't want to die. That I was afraid."  
  
Roger listened, and motioned her to go on with a slight nod of his head.  
  
"After the session, she pulled me aside and told me that she was afraid too. For both her, and her boyfriend. I don't remember exactly how she put it, but I do remember some of the last words she ever said to me."  
  
"She said, 'No day, but today."  
  
***  
  
Mark sat in the hallway, on top of one of the boxes. He was getting impatient. What was taking Mimi so long? Either Roger had changed his mind, or he hadn't.  
  
But just in case, Mark had stopped packing up his stuff into the boxes.  
  
He pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, and waited.  
  
***  
  
"How come you never told me?" Roger exclaimed, angrily.  
  
"I'm not sure," she said in a small voice. "I never thought that it would make a difference. Please, Baby," she reached for Roger's hand, but he pushed it away, forcefully.  
  
Mimi dropped her hands limply in her lap, staring at them, and trying not to cry.  
  
Roger took no notice.  
  
"And when I first met you, when you needed me to light your candle? When I mentioned that April had died, why didn't you say anything?"  
  
"I didn't make the connection at first," Mimi said softly.  
  
"Bullshit," Roger snarled.  
  
"Roger," Mimi said, impatiently, "There's more than one April living in New York."  
  
But Roger was too angry to be sensible.  
  
"You still should have told me!" he said, raising his voice. "And who was the friend that recommended you go in the first place? Was it Benny?"  
  
Mimi said nothing.  
  
"Roger," she said quietly, "Please."  
  
"Just be quiet, Mimi!" he yelled, jumping up to his feet.  
  
"Just SHUT UP!"  
  
"Please, don't say that," she whispered, as her eyes watered.  
  
Suddenly, Roger loathed her. She looked so pathetic, with tears streaming down her face. She was no better than the others. He couldn't even trust her.  
  
"Stop it,' he said, through gritted teeth. "Stop fucking CRYING," he shouted.  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes watery, pleading with him.  
  
"Leave her alone, Roger"  
  
Mimi lifted her eyes to the doorway, and Roger turned around.  
  
Mark was standing there. He had a furious look on his face.  
  
"It's not Mimi that you're mad at, it's me. Leave her alone."  
  
"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Roger sneered. "She's just as bad as you and April. Mark, you're a pathetic excuse for a friend. You're only friend is your goddamn camera. And you," he looked at Mimi, and felt a small twinge of guilt in his stomach for making her cry, but at the same time, he wanted to hurt her. Not physically, but with words.  
  
"You're a liar," he said softly. Then turning his head towards the wall he muttered, "And a whore."  
  
He heard Mimi stumble to her feet, and then her footsteps got faster. The bedroom door slammed violently and both Mark and Roger heard her making her way out of the apartment.  
  
"I think I'll finish packing," Mark said, with a disgusted tone in his voice.  
  
Roger heard the door open and close again.  
  
It wasn't until he heard the front door close again, that he started to feel terrible.  
  
"What the fuck???" he asked himself, furiously.  
  
He pounded his fist into the wall, ignoring the pain that seared through his knuckles.  
  
He picked up the fender, and began to play, mindlessly. His strings felt slippery, and when he looked down he realized his knuckles were cracked, and that he was dripping blood on the guitar.  
  
"Shit," he muttered.  
  
He wiped his hand on his pant leg.  
  
It left a brownish red stain. Disgusting and pathetic. Just like himself. 


	4. Down in the Dumps

"Close on Mark, as he packs up the rest of his belongings, preparing to leave his own home." Mark turned the camera towards himself and gave a little wave. Then he panned across the boxes piled up on each other, each individually scrawled on so he would know what was what.  
  
"I wonder how the hell I'm going to move all this stuff," he said quietly.  
  
Oh, hell, he thought, I'll manage. I always do.  
  
***  
  
"Maureen, I've been keeping quiet for almost the whole afternoon- but I have to say now, this is just fucking STUPID!"  
  
"Hush, Pookie. You wanna help me become a better actress, right?"  
  
Maureen had convinced- no, she FORCED Joanne to do improv games with her that afternoon. The one they were in the middle of required Joanne to be a taxi cab driver, as Maureen pretended to be a variety of different characters- most of whom were either cracked out of their mind, or crazy.  
  
"Take me to Detroit, Sweets," Maureen moaned in what she thought sounded like an insane old man.  
  
"Maureen, enough!" Joanne exclaimed, standing up. "This is ridiculous."  
  
Collins, who had been watching the two argue for most of the day, chuckled softly.  
  
Maureen whirled around and gave him a dirty look. "Well, no one asked YOU to come and watch, Mr. Collins," she snapped.  
  
"Actually, I didn't come on my own. Joanne asked for my company," he replied, smugly.  
  
"Yeah, because Collins has some experience in Medics, and knowing you and your crazy schemes, someone's BOUND to get hurt," Joanne said, laughing.  
  
'FINE," Maureen huffed, pulling off her wig. "But when I become a television star, don't expect me to share my salary with you."  
  
"Right, Honeybear," Joanne sighed.  
  
Suddenly, a loud rapping sound was heard at the front door.  
  
"You gonna get that?" Joanne asked, impatiently.  
  
"No." Maureen folded her arms stubbornly.  
  
Joanne rose up to open the door.  
  
"Mimi?"  
  
Maureen and Collin's heads turned towards the doorway.  
  
"She's back again?" Maureen asked, walking over besides Joanne. Then, "Oh God, honey, what happened?"  
  
Mimi stood in the doorway, her shoulders shaking. Her eyes were red and puffy, and it looked like she'd been crying for a long period of time.  
  
"Come here." Maureen grasped Mimi's unsteady hand in hers, and guided her over to the couch. She pressed Mimi against her, and could feel her quiver as she tried to hold in sobs.  
  
'Shhh, you know it's Mark he's upset with, not you," Maureen said gently, patting Mimi on the back.  
  
"No," Mimi said in watery voice, looking up at Maureen tearfully. "He HATES me. You should have heard him. I've never seen him so angry before," she hiccupped. "He called me a- he said . . ."  
  
"It's alright, you don't have to tell me," Maureen interrupted, trying to coax her into calming down.  
  
"He called me a whore," she said softly, as a tear sloppily dripped from her nose.  
  
Collins and Joanne glanced at each other nervously, and Maureen closed her eyes, and shook her head. Why'd he have to take his anger out on Mimi?"  
  
"He's just angry, he doesn't mean what he says," insisted Maureen, trying convince her.  
  
"You don't understand," Mimi whispered, brushing a tear away with the back of her hand. She didn't want to go into the argument they'd had with Maureen. Not now, anyway.  
  
***  
  
"Thanks, Benny," Mark said, exasperated, as he got the last of the boxes into the backseat of his car.  
  
"Hey, what's a yuppie-scum for, anyhow?" Benny joked, and Mark's face turned red.  
  
"I didn't mean that before," he stammered.  
  
"Right. It's okay, forget about it. Besides, now I've got one less person to worry about in the building," Benny laughed. Mark rolled his eyes.  
  
"So where you gonna go?" Benny asked, as he slammed the car door shut.  
  
"Don't know. I'll probably get a room in a motel for a few days or something," Mark replied, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"A motel? Here? Good luck,' Benny sneered. "Hey, something fell out of one of the boxes." He bent down to retrieve a small maroon notebook, with a little metal clasp on the side.  
  
"What's this, some little kid's diary?" he asked, turning it over in his hands with a quizzical look on his face.  
  
"I'll take that," Mark sad quickly, grabbing it from Benny's hands. "It's um, Roger's. I'll just set it outside his door."  
  
Quickly, he ran back up the stairs to what was now his old apartment, and easily slid the notebook under the doorway, being as it was so flat.  
  
When he returned, Benny was leaning against the car impatiently, his arms folded over each other.  
  
"Sorry about that. Well, I guess I'll see you around," Mark said, tucking his camera under his arm. "Give Muffy a kiss for me."  
  
"Fuck you," Benny snapped, 'You know I haven't been over there in weeks. She just got another one of those damned Akita things, and it never shuts up. She's calling it 'Evita, the 2nd."  
  
"Haha!"  
  
"Shut up. Get out of here, will you?" Benny said, punching him playfully on the shoulder.  
  
"You've got it, boss. See you around."  
  
He turned the keys in the ignition, and pressed his foot down on the pedal. He waved to Benny as he pulled away from the sidewalk.  
  
He's probably find some cheap motel to camp in at that night. But first he wanted to go to Maureen and Joanne's place. He figured that that's where Mimi had gone. He wanted to make sure she was okay before looking for a room.  
  
***  
  
"Want me to order something to eat?" Collins offered, trying to be of some help.  
  
Mimi shook her head, as did Joanne.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Maureen said softly, as she watched the petite Latinna girl who was currently leaning against a pillow, her eyes tired from crying.  
  
"So, I'm guessing you're going to spend the night again?"  
  
Mimi nodded her head, slowly. "If it's not any trouble."  
  
"Are you kidding Meems? It's no trouble at all," Maureen laughed, and poked her in the ribs, trying to cheer her up.  
  
Mimi smiled weakly.  
  
"Meems, I KNOW Roger. I'm used to his mood swings, everything will turn around. Trust me, I know."  
  
"Okay," Mimi said in a small voice, though she didn't believe her.  
  
"More company," Joanne called, as another couple of knocks tapped against the door.  
  
"If it's Roger, I'm not here," Mimi grumbled, burying her face into the pillow.  
  
It was Mark.  
  
"Hey Poo-Mark," Maureen quickly covered herself up as Joanne glared at her, threateningly.  
  
"Hey, Mo. Is Mimi here?" he asked, as he stepped inside the apartment.  
  
A muffled 'Yes' was heard from the couch.  
  
Mark sat beside Mimi, on the opposite side of Maureen.  
  
"Meems?" he said gently, pulling the pillow away.  
  
Her dark brown eyes gazed at him soulfully.  
  
"How are you?" he asked, as she slowly sat up.  
  
"I've been better," she said, tonelessly.  
  
Nervously, she glanced at the doorway. He didn't come with you, did he?" she asked quickly.  
  
Mark shook his head. "Nope. It's just me."  
  
She sighed in relief, and flopped back down on her side.  
  
"Mimi, you know it's not you he's angry at . . ."  
  
"I know, I KNOW, he's not mad at me, he's just taking out his anger on me, that's all," she mimicked, coldly. "Maureen already told me."  
  
Mark looked to Maureen for help, and she returned to him a 'What do you want ME to do?' look.  
  
"Let's put it off until tomorrow, okay?" Mark said, desperately. "Are you guys hungry?"  
  
Maureen shook her head up and down, as did Joanne. Mimi rolled her eyes, and nodded.  
  
Triumphantly, Collins, picked the phone up out of the cradle and dialed for Take-Out Chinese.  
  
***  
  
Roger finally stepped out of his bedroom. He ran a hand through his disheveled mussed hair, and for one neglected his hair gel. He looked around the living room, trying to figure out if Mark had really left or not. He felt sick and empty inside. He didn't REALLY want Mark to leave. He was his best friend, for Christ sakes!  
  
He walked over to the front door and opened it, hoping to see Mark's stuff still outside, which would mean he hadn't left yet.  
  
But the boxes were indeed, gone. Instead, Roger found a small, flat little maroon notebook lying on the ground.  
  
Confused, he picked it up, and opened it up, turning to the inside cover. The name printed on the page in black ink was strikingly familiar. It read, 'April Cristina McGonahan.' 


	5. Another Time, Another Place

"Rook at the ROVELY rice," Mark said in a sing-song voice.  
  
Maureen tapped him on the arm and shook her head.  
  
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, as rice dribbled from his chopsticks and onto his lap.  
  
Mimi poked at an egg roll, turning it over with her chopsticks, and examining it. None of the food on her plate entered her mouth.  
  
Joanne and Collins ate silently, wondering whether they should break the silence or not.  
  
"I'll get the plates," Joanne finally piped up. She picked up all the plastic plates in one hand, and went into the kitchen to toss them. When she returned, it was still silent.  
  
"So," Collins said, rattling a fortune cookie in his hand, still in the wrapper. "Fortune, anyone?"  
  
***  
  
Roger sat down on the couch, and flipped to the first page of April's diary, both scared and anxious at the same time.  
  
"January 2nd, 1995," the first entry read;  
  
"Today Roger and the gang threw a surprise party for me. I WAS surprised, only because I didn't think that Roger, let alone everyone else would remember. Mark, Maureen, Collins and Benny got everything set up, while Roger took me to lunch. It was cowboy-themed- Plastic cowboy hats, toy guns, fake badges. Pretty sad, but it's the thought that counts. Collins and Benny were having a little TOO MUCH fun with those pistols. Roger had to confiscate them because we could hear them 'Ka-POW-ing' from the hallway, and Roger and Mark's neighbors were starting to get pretty pissy. God, I love him so much. Only Roger would come up with the lamest birthday party in history. Love you, Babe!"  
  
Roger smiled as he remembered that day. It WAS pretty pathetic. But April had loved it. He skipped past a few pages, randomly stopping to read another entry;  
  
"April 24th, 1995. Today, me and Roger had the day all to ourselves. Mark and Maureen went to some spa for the weekend, (her idea, not his) and Collins has been busy down at NYU. I understand, I know how those kids are. I mean, I used to BE one of them."  
  
Roger chuckled, and read on.  
  
"Tonight we just lay in bed together. We didn't have sex- we just talked. Big surprise, right? We talked about EVERYTHING. I've only known the guy for about 3 months, but I still feel like I've known him all my life, you know? He's like that. Tomorrow we're going to go to Central Park for the day. Roger's ideal date: being showered in bird crap, while sitting on a fading statue of Alice from Alice in Wonderland. Such a romantic, my Pooh- Bear is."  
  
Roger set down the book for a moment, and sighed. God, he'd loved her. He still missed her like hell sometimes, when he was lying in bed. Those were usually the nights when Mimi worked late.  
  
He picked up the book, settling it in his lap again. He flipped forward to October.  
  
"I'm starting to get really scared. Every day, I feel worse. I still haven't told Roger yet, I mean- how do you tell the person you love the most that he's going to die? I took Mark's advice, and decided to attend one of those Life Support meetings."  
  
Roger's face turned red with anger. Mark had known that Roger had had AIDS before he knew himself! Furiously, he turned the page, almost ripping it out of the book.  
  
"Well, I just got back from the meeting. It wasn't too bad, to tell you the truth. The leader, Paul, was a pretty cool guy. I know this sounds stupid, but he sort of helped me come to terms with this thing, you know? Anyway, I also became pretty friendly with this girl who was sitting next to me. She introduced herself as Mimi. She's small, and has curly hair. She looks like she's got some sort of Latin heritage."  
  
Panamanian, Roger corrected her in his mind.  
  
"She told me that she found out she was sick only a about a month ago. She works down at The Cat Scratch Club. She's a dances. She's pretty cool and down-to-earth, though. She made me feel a little bit better about everything that'd happened. She said it was best I tell Roger as soon as possible, so we could deal with it together. She's right. Sooner or later, I'll have to tell him."  
  
Roger sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Why couldn't you have told me in person, April?, he thought, miserably. He gripped the little book tightly in his hands, and continued to read.  
  
***  
  
Maureen's Patti Smith clock that was hung up on the wall read six thirty, but Mimi was already snuggled up on the end of the couch, asleep. Maureen had placed an old, but warm, quilt over her, and was talking quietly with Mark.  
  
"You think those two will make up?" she asked nervously, gazing upon her sleeping friend.  
  
"I hope- well, I don't hope, I KNOW they will. You know how those two are, they love each other to death. Me, on the other hand- I doubt Roger will ever speak to me again."  
  
"Honey, just be glad that I'M still speaking to you," Maureen said, haughtily. "You really have some nerve, Mark.  
  
"I know," Mark said slowly, "I left April's diary outside Roger's door."  
  
"Wow," Maureen said, shaking her head, "You REALLY have some nerve."  
  
***  
  
"What the fuck is Roger's problem? He's NEVER here anymore. He's always out playing with those damn Hungarians. I hardly ever see him anymore. Me and Mark are always kept waiting 'til one in the morning on the couch, and when he DOES come home, he barely even glances at me, just collapses on the bed without saying anything to either of us."  
  
Roger bit his lip, and flipped through the next few pages.  
  
"I feel horrible- and it's not just because I'm sick. Me and I had a couple of drinks tonight while we were waiting up for Roger. We ended up making out. I was drunk, but still, I'd never thought of Mark in a romantic way. It's like he's always there, but sometimes we just sort of use him as the welcome mat to wipe our feet on. I never noticed that until tonight. God knows where Roger is. It's four in the morning, and he's STILL not here. If he ever comes back, he'll probably be stoned. I swear, he loves that damn fender more than me."  
  
"Each day I feel worse. It's like I just don't give a shit about anything anymore. I only leave the house to go to the meetings, and I just pull on a pair of sweatpants and one of Roger's old T-shirts. I don't remember when I last took a shower. I still haven't told Roger. It's eating away at me. I feel like if I don't tell him soon, I'll die faster of guilt than I will of the disease. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad."  
  
A tear dropped onto the page, smudging some of the letters. Roger hadn't realized he's been crying. Embarrassed, although no one else was in the room, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.  
  
"December 17th, 1995. I can't do it. I can't tell Roger. Not in person, at least. I love him. But I can't take it anymore. I went to my last meeting today. I told Mimi to take care of herself. She looked confused, but just smiled and waved after me. Poor kid. I hope everything turns out okay for her. At least one of us has a chance of surviving this."  
  
Roger turned to the last page of the diary- oh GOD, it was a copy of April's suicide note. He'd read the one that she'd left in the bathroom probably about a hundred times. It was probably engraved in small red letters along his brain now. But still, his eyes lingered over the words.  
  
Dear Roger, I know that I've been a big burden on your life lately. There's a side of me that you don't know. There's something I should have told you. I should have a long time ago. Roger, we've got AIDS. I can't live with myself anymore, knowing that because of me, you're going to die. I don't want to you to have anymore baggage than you've already got. Smile, babe- it's the start of your new life. -April  
  
He had noted when he'd first read the note, that it hadn't even said 'Love, April.' Just 'April.' That had hurt a lot.  
  
He closed the book, and put it down. He'd never realized how he'd been neglecting April. Was he neglecting Mimi too? He knew April was in the past now. He still loved her, to this day. But now he had Mimi- He didn't want to lose her too.  
  
He stuffed the diary in the drawer of the little table by the couch, put on his coat, grabbed his fended under his arm, and left the apartment. 


	6. CowPrint and Farewells

"What time is it?" Mark asked Maureen.  
  
"Look at the clock," she replied, yawning.  
  
Glancing at the Patti Smith clock, he read '7:00.'  
  
"Mo, where'd you get that thing, anyway?"  
  
"Antique Store. Soho. Half price. Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."  
  
"Whatever," Mark mumbled. "I left my camera in the car, I'm gonna go grab it and bring it up here. I don't want anyone stealing it."  
  
Maureen rolled her eyes. "Right. G'night."  
  
Mark raced downstairs, and quickly opened the door of his car. He'd been so stressed out when he'd first arrived that he'd forgotten to grab his beloved camera. He closed the door and locked it, and was about to close the door when he heard his name.  
  
"Mark?"  
  
"Roger?" Mark said, turning around.  
  
Roger was still wearing his red-checked pajama pants, and sweater. His guitar strap hung on his shoulder.  
  
"Hey," Roger said softly, scuffing the ground with his boot.  
  
"Hi," Mark replied, awkwardly.  
  
"I read the diary."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. I never knew how hard everything had been for April. I hadn't realized that I hadn't been there for her." He sighed, and looked to Mark, waiting for him to finally say something.  
  
"What makes you think I left it there?" Mark asked, stupidly.  
  
"Come on, Mark, I wasn't born yesterday. Besides, who else would have kept it?"  
  
Mark said nothing, just adjusted his glasses and rotated the camera around in his hands.  
  
"I'm sorry about what happened before."  
  
"So am I."  
  
"What you and April did was wrong- but I was wrong to have neglected her like that."  
  
Mark nodded, understandingly.  
  
"So, are we okay?" Roger asked.  
  
"As friends, you mean?"  
  
"Well, yeah," Roger stammered. "You don't have to move- as soon as I got up this morning and saw your stuff gone, I regretted it."  
  
That made him smile. "Alright. I'll bring my stuff back in tonight."  
  
"So, we're level now?" Roger asked, slowly.  
  
"Yeah, we're cool now." Mark lifted his head. "I'm sorry, Rodge."  
  
Roger nodded. "Me too." He reached out a hand to pat Mark on the back, comfortingly.  
  
"So, is Mimi up there?"  
  
"Yes. She's with Maureen and Joanne. Collins is up there too."  
  
"Okay, good," he sighed. He'd been afraid that'd she'd run off again. And he remembered what had almost happened the last time she did.  
  
"She's pretty upset," Mark admitted. "I'm not sure if she'll talk to you."  
  
"Well, I'm going to try," Roger said, stubbornly. "One of us has got to break the ice sooner or later, right?"  
  
Mark nodded silently, and followed Roger back up the stairs to Maureen and Joanne's place.  
  
***  
  
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Maureen chortled, as Roger and Mark entered the apartment together. "I'm guessing you two made up?" Maureen asked, noting that were standing beside each other, and yet not attacking one another.  
  
"Yup," said Mark. He grinned stupidly, and Roger gave Maureen a sheepish grin.  
  
"Well, good luck with her," Maureen said, jerking her head, "She's in the bathroom."  
  
"Okay." Roger headed over to the bathroom door.  
  
"I said she's in the BATHROOM, Roger!" Maureen shouted after him.  
  
"I'll knock!" he shot back.  
  
***  
  
Mimi sat in the tub, her knees pulled in towards her chest. She stared blankly ay the white and black cow-print shower curtain. She heard a tap on the door.  
  
"I'll be out soon," she called.  
  
The door open, and shut again.  
  
"Jeez, Mark, you just can't wait to see me naked, can you?" Mimi said sarcastically, through the shower curtain.  
  
"It's me," Roger's voice said.  
  
"Oh." Mimi was silent.  
  
"Can I talk to you?"  
  
"We're talking, aren't we?" Mimi said, coldly.  
  
"Well, I'd be more comfortable talking to someone when I could actually see them, Meems."  
  
"I wouldn't."  
  
Roger flinched. That one hurt.  
  
"Meems, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said before. I was mad at Mark, and I took my anger out on the wrong person. I didn't mean it- please, Mimi."  
  
Mimi said nothing. Roger heard the sound of the water swishing around slowly in the tub.  
  
"I almost lost you once, Mimi. I don't want that to happen again."  
  
Mimi could hear the pain in his voice, and she felt a slight stab of guilt.  
  
"Please, Mimi. Couldn't we start over?" Roger's voice got smaller. "I don't want to lose you."  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
She heard him let out a long, exasperated sigh, and then she heard his footsteps as he silently got up and left. A moment later, she heard the front door open and shut.  
  
Mimi blinked, trying to recollect what'd just happened. She stood up, slipped on a bathrobe that Maureen had left her, and went into the living room. Maureen and Joanne were sitting on the couch together, talking in low tones. Collins was slipping on his coat, preparing to leave.  
  
"Where is he?" she asked Maureen.  
  
"You just missed the two of them," she pointed towards the door. "Sorry about that. I told him you were in the tub," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"It's not that," Mimi said, amused.  
  
She turned to Collins. "You think you could give me a ride?" she asked, sheepishly.  
  
***  
  
Roger lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His guitar was sprawled across his chest, and he strummed a few random notes, his mouth moving silently along with the words.  
  
"Is that our song?"  
  
Roger sat up, startled.  
  
Mimi stood in the doorway, her small frame highlighted by the glint of the moon peering through the shades. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun. She hadn't bothered to dry it. She an old pair of pajama bottoms, and a shirt that Maureen had lent her, with an M monogrammed on it. M for Maureen, Roger though, M for Mimi.  
  
"Hey," he said, softly.  
  
Mimi crawled beside him on the bed. Slowly, Roger moved his arm so it was wrapped around her body, protectively.  
  
"I really am sorry," he said, resting his head lightly on her shoulder.  
  
"I know." Her voice was muffled by pillows, as she buried her face into it. "I love you, Roger."  
  
He removed the pillow, and leaned down and kissed her gently. She kissed him back.  
  
"Jeez, Mimi, your hair's soaking the pillows, it's freezing."  
  
"I know a way to get warmer," she said, with that mischievous look of hers.  
  
***  
  
Down the hall, Mark lay in bed, clasping April's diary in his right hand. He stared at the cover for a while, but he didn't read it. He already knew her story. He rose from his bed, walked over to the closet, and pushed it back behind a tower of shoeboxes, gently.  
  
"Another day, April," Mark said, sighing. He could hear Roger and Mimi's low voices in the other room. God knew what they were up to now. He sighed contently, and closed his eyes.  
  
THE END! 


End file.
